Heros: Aftermath
by Aeryn's Tales
Summary: This is a spin-off the WB series Angel. It begins with the end of the final episode, Not Fade Away. The remains of Team Angel have to find their way in the world with the help of a new liason from the PTBe, and deal with the death of old friends.
1. Chapter One

**As a disclaimer: Aeryn Tales is not affiliated with FOX, The WB, Paramount, or any of the agencies that may be mentioned here. I do not make any money off of any of the characters, plots, or other items mentioned.  
**  
Heroes  
  
Episode One: Aftermath  
  
_If God would send his angels  
If God would send a sign   
If God would send his angels   
Then everything would be alright.  
-U2  
_  
The battle was not going well, Angel thought silently as he slashed and hacked his way through the throng of demons. It was becoming a dance really; to the left, to the right, swing around to the back. His team was falling fast, and to make matters worse that damn dragon was setting the surrounding buildings on fire. Someone was going to notice and soon.  
  
He looked around him, and saw Illyria smashing through the horde with her bare fists, and when necessary an axe she must have confiscated at some point from one of them. She was smiling at the damage, and probably taking immense satisfaction the violence she was feeling. Who'd have thought it, Angel though, the god found her heart. His heart sank suddenly as he caught sight of Gunn. He was faltering, barely holding his ground. It would not be long.  
  
Spike on the other hand was doing well. He had been pent up so long, that this opportunity had unleashed a whirlwind in him, and was smashing everything and every demon he could reach.  
  
Angel brought his attention back to the battle. "When did we enter Middle Earth?" he thought, when the sword ran through him.  
  
Spike saw it first. Angel was fighting hard, when an ugly short thing that looked like a troll ran him through. "Angel!" he shouted, but over the din and the rain no one could hear him. Illyria then caught sight and started plowing her way through to the scene...but it was all in vain, for in the next moment another raised their axe...As Angel stabbed the offending troll with his sword, it brought it down through his neck. Angel smiled as he turned to dust. "I'm coming home Cordy...I'm coming home." And all went silent.

* * *

Wesley awoke in the middle of a meadow. The air was clean and the flowers were in bloom. He sat up slowly in the grass, and tried to clear his head. "I was dead...now I am in the English countryside," he said. He stood and looked around. Nothing but grass, sky, and flowers for all he could see.  
  
"Ah so your awake, mate!" came from behind him.  
  
Wesley spun around to find a peculiarly dressed man, with short brown hair and an Irish accent. "Where did you come from?" Wesley asked, now very confused.  
  
"Am I..."  
  
"Dead? Deceased? Passed on? On another plane? Worm food? Yeah mate. Welcome to the afterlife."  
  
Wesley blinked. "Well if you're sure then," he muttered and looked around. There was a river down the way to the east. He looked at the other man and started walking toward it. "So who are you then?" he asked as the other man caught up.  
  
"Doyle," and seeing the shock on Wesley's face, "so you've heard me name before?"  
  
"Yes. You died four years ago, and received visions from the Powers that Be."  
  
"That would be me, yes." Doyle smiled. "So I take it you know Angel then."  
  
Wesley nodded, but kept his face looking straight ahead.  
  
"So what's your name then?"  
  
"Wesley Wyndam-Price."  
  
"Well pleased to meet you mate. Um...so where are you going?"  
  
"The river."  
  
"I see that, but..why? There is nothing down there but water and fish. And it's not really a river you know."  
  
Wesley stopped and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"Well think about it. This is the afterlife. There are no rivers, grass, flowers, ...hell even air!" He gestured toward the sky. "This is all for us. To get us used to being here. To being dead."  
  
Wesley folded his arms across his chest. "And you know this how?"  
  
"Well apart I have been here for a long time now. I also happen to be your guide here in the afterlife. That and I have a manual."  
  
Wesley's eyes opened wider. "There's a manual?!"  
  
Doyle grinned. "Nah! Just pulling your leg...well figuratively speaking. See even our bodies aren't really here. We are just energy here. Formless. Once you get used to it, it's quite nice. Actually, I would have left you to it for awhile...but you see Angel has stirred quite the hornet's nest up here and in several other dimensions." Doyle shook his head. "Go figure, huh. Anyways, I have been sent to fetch your celestial self here to give the Voice a report of what exactly you all thought you were doing."  
  
Wesley looked a bit taken aback. "We were trying to make a difference. To show the Senior Partners that we still could."  
  
Doyle patted his arm. "Hey mate speaking to the choir here. Actually that's a different plane...anyways, I agree with you. However, I am not the one you have to explain it too."  
  
And then everything shifted and blurred. 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two  
  
Spike stood frozen. He could not believe what he had just seen. Illyria too had frozen. A shadow passed over her noble features. Even the Army of evil stopped. It was as if someone had hit a pause button, and no one could quite believe what they had just seen. Then Gunn fell to the ground.

* * *

Wesley felt queasy. 'How on earth do I feel queasy! I have no stomach!' And yet the feeling was there.  
  
"Don't worry, mate. The feeling will pass." Doyle was standing there next to him.  
  
Wesley looked around to find himself in a circular stone room. It was massive. Each rock was carved with a specific symbol, and oddly, ones he could not understand. High above was an open dome; the stars visible in the sky. He could not help but whisper his appreciation.  
  
"Why am I here? What is this place?" he asked.  
  
He turned to Doyle, but he was gone. Wesley was alone.  
  
"Well," he said to himself, "I don't know what I can tell anyone." He looked at the dome above him. "You saw for yourself what happened. What we did."  
  
"What you have done.."  
  
"is to disturb..." 

"the balance of things."  
  
Wesley spun around to find himself in front of four men. Each man was tall and robed. Their silver hair and eyes gleamed in the starlight. Their voices were melodious, each a different timber and pitch.  
  
"Disturb? The balance has been tipping for millennia. How did we disturb anything?"  
  
One tipped his head and stepped forward. "By striking the Circle..."  
  
Another stepped forward, "you started the end of days."  
  
The third was suddenly behind him. 'How did he get there?' Wesley thought.

"You have started this.."  
  
"Too soon," spoke the fourth. "It was not meant to be..."  
  
"For millennia to come."  
  
'Ok, back to the first one,' Wesley thought. Out loud he said, "Who are you?"  
  
"We are the many.."  
  
"And the one."  
  
"We are the beginning..."  
  
"And the end."  
  
"We are the voice..."  
  
"For them who are before speech."  
  
"You speak for the Powers that Be," Wesley whispered.  
  
"The Powers that Be..."  
  
"Yes. We are their voice..."  
  
"And their will."  
  
The men appeared and reappeared randomly around him. It was almost as if they could not stay still.  
  
"We have seen through your eyes..."  
  
"How events played out."  
  
"But we do not understand..."  
  
"Why you attempted such a plan, when you knew it would not succeed."  
  
The owner of this voice appeared right in front of Wesley, and stared into his brown eyes with his silver ones.  
  
Wesley straightened, and stared back into his eyes. "We wanted to show the Senior Partners that humanity, and good, could still make a difference. That they were not all powerful and infallible."  
  
"Then you succeeded..."  
  
"And failed."  
  
"Your choices were reckless..."  
  
"Your method rash."  
  
"The Wolf, Ram, and Hart are prideful..."  
  
"Their vengeance will be swift..."  
  
"Humanity will suffer..."  
  
"Violence and chaos will reign."  
  
Wesley was getting dizzy trying to keep track of their movements. "So what were we to do? Just simply walk away? To let them continue?"  
  
"We did not say this..."  
  
"We simply do not understand..."  
  
"The reasoning is flawed..."  
  
"This must be rectified..."  
  
"Los Angeles will burn..."  
  
"Many will die before this is over."  
  
"Then intervene!" Wesley whispered. "You must be able to stop it! You must be able to prevent further loss of life! Stop watching! Do something!"  
  
"He does not understand."  
  
"He could not begin to..."  
  
"The scope is too big for a lower lifeform."  
  
They turned and looked at Wesley.  
  
Wesley would not be deterred. "What about Jasmine? She interfered. She tried to help. Her methods were wrong, but her intentions were good."  
  
One of the men, whom Wesley now noticed carried a sword at his side, strode up to him frowning. "The one you call Jasmine was an anomaly, an aberration. She is fallen from Grace."  
  
Another stepped forward, and he had a golden horn on his side. "This matter is concluded."  
  
"The battle has been decided," spoke the third.  
  
"One champion is lost..."  
  
"But another may arise."  
  
"Lost?" Wesley asked. "Who has fallen?"  
  
"The Vampire, Angel, has fallen."  
  
"What about his shanshu? Isn't he supposed to live again?"  
  
The golden horned one looked at him with sympathy. "This he gave for his plan to succeed. He will not live again, but he shall dwell in paradise."  
  
"You must go. Your work is done. You must rejoin the fallen."  
  
"What about the others?" Wesley asked.  
  
"Vengeance is served. The Wolf, the Ram, and the Heart must return their soldiers to their fold."  
  
"To not do so is to risk the Wrath. This they dare not do."  
  
"Aid will be sent. We wish to see more. We wish to learn more...."  
  
"What it means..."  
  
"To be human."  
  
And the room was silent. Wesley was gone, and the beings that appeared as men vanished on silver wings.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three  
  
Thunder crashed and the ground shook. Spike didn't know what to think or to feel at this moment. The army of demons was frozen as if some fear had over come them. Far off the sound of helicopters reached his ears. Illyria also did not know what to make of what was going on, but though she was extremely tempted to commit more acts of violence felt the change of the tide in the air. She looked for Gunn, but he had vanished from the scene. She caught Spike's eye, and sensed his thoughts. 'Go! Find him!'  
  
Illyria turned to head back, but was stopped by a tall man with silver hair, who appeared from nowhere directly behind her. Illyria, who cowed to no man or demon, felt awed and frightened. This was something old; older than her, older than the world. He ignored her and stepped past into the midst of the horde.  
  
"You will leave now!"  
  
Quite a few of the horde turned and ran, but a few rash ones stayed rooted to their spots.  
  
"Who are you that would order us so?!" shouted the largest. He turned to his compatriot, "Kill him!"  
  
The demon had not moved a hair, when faster than thought the man drew his sword. Flames burst forth from it as soon as it left its sheath, and the demon was gone before it could react. His leader was equally as rapidly dispatched. The man turned to those who remained silver eyes flashing, and they fled in terror.  
  
The roaring of the dragon above was halted in its tracks as a bolt of lightning shot out of the sky incinerating it in mid flight.  
  
Spike stared at the newcomer, who in turned stared back at him. Spike dropped his sword. The man nodded, and turned to Illyria. "Take your wounded and go. Bury your dead. The end of days has been...postponed." Spike blinked, and the man was gone.  
  
Across the alley an elderly, homeless man performed the sign of the cross on his chest. "Angels and Ministers of Grace, defend us."

* * *

Charles Gunn awoke inside the Hyperion hotel. He knew it was the hotel by the round sofa he was currently hanging off of. However, he also knew he was not alone. He sat up slowly, and felt the wound on his side. It was still bleeding, but it had slowed. "Ok," he said to himself, "I should be dead. Why am I not dead?"  
  
"Because I managed to get to you in time," said a soft, feminine voice from behind him.  
  
Gunn spun around quickly, and nearly fell over, but was caught equally as quickly.  
  
"You should be careful. You are not completely healed yet. I did what I could, but I can only aid the healing process."  
  
Gunn felt himself lowered back on to the couch, and turned his head to look at his savior. She was beautiful, but not overly so. She looked at him with concerned blue eyes, and long chestnut hair fell from her head touching his cheek. She touched his forehead with the back of her hand.  
  
"There is no fever. We were lucky." She smiled at him. Oh would he love to see her smile like that again.  
  
"Are you an angel?" he whispered. Then blushed, "I can't believe I just said that."  
  
She grinned, "It's ok. In human terms and frames of reference, yes, I suppose I am."  
  
That made him blink. "You mean there ARE angels! That they exist!"  
  
She sat down next to him, still smiling. "Yes, in a sense. Your religions state that beings from God come and guide humanity. I have been sent by those higher than you and me to guide you, so in that respect the analogy works."  
  
"So you are a Power that Be?"  
  
She shook her head, "Oh no! I am not so high as them. I am from the...dimensions...that they are from, but I am merely a servant...a messenger if you will. Those higher than me have chosen to end this battle, and sent me to help you; all of you."  
  
"Well, thank you then. I am Charles Gunn." He offered her his hand.  
  
She took it, but seemed surprised when he started shaking it. "Then Charles Gunn, I am Layla." She released his hand and looked at her hand. She grinned. "Hands! Such a concept! I am unused to physical form. This will be fun! I cannot wait to learn more!"  
  
"More? Are you staying, then?" Gunn asked in wonder. "Don't angels live in Heaven?"  
  
She looked at him with enthusiasm. "Actually that is the second part of my mission. I am to stay with you and help...what is the term...fight the good fight? Those higher than me want to learn more about humanity and their world. This apocalypse that almost was, has alerted them that watching may not be all that is necessary. But.." she frowned, "I guess they want to know more about what they are protecting."  
  
"Right," said a very confused Charles Gunn. "Well, since you are sticking around, we need to find the rest of the team."  
  
"Not to worry!" answered Spike from the doorway, "We found you." He looked over at Layla, "And apparently the Powers that Be have decided to finally take action." 


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four  
  
It had been Illyria's idea to check the hotel. She had memories of Fred and the others working there, plus as she had pointed out, there was a light in the window where there hadn't been on before. 'Two points the Blue for observation skills,' Spike thought. He had not expected, however, to enter the lobby and find him in such good shape talking with a young woman in a flowing dress. However, something told him that her arrival, and what happened outside was not all coincidence.  
  
"Good to see you made it Charlie," then looking at Layla, "So...who's the bird?" was what ended up coming out of his mouth. She just looked confused.  
  
Gunn nodded in response and gestured toward Spike, "Ah...Spike, Layla. Layla, Spike. She is our friendly, neighborhood representative from the PTB's."  
  
Spike walked down the stairs and looked her in the eye. "Sorry to not appear grateful and all, seeing as one of you just blew up a dragon, and scared off the entire army out there. But what in hell is going in?"  
  
Illyria came down the stairs, staring at Layla. Then deciding there was no danger, moved over to make sure for herself that Gunn was well.  
  
Layla smiled at Spike. "Ah the Sword has come. He is part of the Voice. The warrior aspect if you will. He was sent to end the war. It's not time for this battle. Not yet anyway." She frowned in thought. "And before you ask, I don't know when the time is. I only know what I was told to do, and that is to help you." She waved her hand at the group.  
  
She walked over to the door and looked out into the rain. "Now we can spend the rest of the night grilling me for information I don't have," and turning toward the group, she looked Spike in the eye. "Or we can ..."  
  
"Bury our dead," Illyria finished. She stood. "I must return to Vail's and retrieve Wesley. He requires the rites of an honored warrior." She walked toward the door. "I will return shortly." And with that she was gone.  
  
Spike nodded at Illryia. "So where do we take him then? Never really had to put thought in to where I buried someone before."  
  
"Next to Cordy," Gunn said. "He shouldn't be alone. And it seems right somehow."  
  
Spike nodded, "Agreed. What about Angel then?"  
  
"He should be with Cordy too."  
  
Spike turned to Layla. But she was gone. "Now where in bloody hell did she go!" Then something clicked in his head. "Wait a tick! She said she was from the Powers?!"  
  
Gunn stood up and walked over. "Yeah, she is a celestial being in the flesh."  
  
"Oh Christ! Are you saying she's an angel?!"  
  
Gunn waked past him toward the door, and looked outside. "According to best guesses...yeah."

* * *

Layla blinked into the rain. She stared down at the dust, now more of a mud type substance, that had once been a champion. She drew a medium sized box out of her robe, and opened it. Her other hand she held high above the pile. She closed her eyes, and concentrated. Light curled and swirled, as she drew the dust through the air and into the awaiting box. When she finished she closed the box and faded out of sight.

* * *

Illyria retraced her steps till she found herself at Vail's door. She entered the house and into the room where Wesley's body lay. She felt familiar, if new, emotions well up inside of her: Pain, emptiness, loss. She closed her eyes, and steeled herself as she walked over to his body. Opening them, she looked down at what had been her guide and friend. No words could express what she felt. She knelt down, and slowly gathered his body to hers. Her vision blurred, as alien tears filled her eyes. She didn't bother to brush them away as she gently picked up his body, and carried him away into the rain.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five  
  
Gunn had wandered off to his room to see if he could find some dry clothes. Spike decided, since the danger was pretty much over, to look around a bit. He entered what looked like an office, and sat behind the desk. He opened a drawer, and found a picture laying face down. Curious he picked it up. It was of Angel, Cordelia, and Wesley. Spike smiled. Cordelia looked young, Wesley looked more like a ponce, and Angel...well he never really changed. They were smiling and happy. Wesley was holding up his thumb in a thumbs up way. Spike laughed. "What a prat!" He said with a laugh, and placed the picture on the desk. "Man this is dusty!" He got up to look for a cloth to wipe the dust away.  
  
He found an old box of tissues on an old book shelf, and turn around to find Layla holding the picture. She looked at it curiously. Then she carefully replaced it on the desk.  
  
"Life is very fleeting here," she whispered. She turned and looked at Spike.  
  
Spike walked back over to the desk, and took the picture and started to clean it with a tissue. "Yeah, well...nothing lasts forever."  
  
He could feel her eyes on him. "But," she said as she laid her hand on his arm, "it does." He looked up into her eyes. "Your friends, who they were, what they became, go on in you, and in the hearts of others. Nothing ever truly dies."  
  
Then she looked awkward. She reached into her outer robe and pulled out a box. "I think you should have this."  
  
Spike looked at her in puzzlement.  
  
"It's Angel. His remains. I thought...you should have it. To bury with his friends."  
  
For once, Spike didn't know what to say. He just nodded, and took the box.  
  
Whatever moment, or connection that was there, was shattered in the next breath, by the banging of the outer doors.  
  
Illyria had returned.

* * *

Gunn rushed down the stairs at the same time Spike and Layla came darting out of the office.  
  
Illyria had laid Wesley's body carefully on the couch, and was carefully covering it with a blanket. "His flesh is beginning to decay. We must perform the rituals soon."  
  
Spike nodded, and Gunn swallowed. Illyria was trembling, but both men felt it more than wise to not mention it.  
  
"Right, let's be off then," Spike announced.  
  
"What you got there?" Gunn asked nodding at the box, and trying his best not to look at the body of his friend.  
  
"Angel," Spike stated still looking at Wesley.  
  
"Oh...well then..." Gunn looked lost for words, eyes now focused entirely on the box.  
  
Layla stepped forward. "I can take you to the site more quickly." She nodded toward the windows. "The sun will rise soon, haste seems to be required."  
  
She motioned for everyone to hold hands. "Um...I am afraid touch is necessary."  
  
Illyria gathered Wesley to herself once again. Gunn held her arm. Spike sighed, a little irritated at having hold Gunn's hand. But when Layla took his....if he had needed to breathe, he would have lost it. There was a jolt through his whole body; from his finger tips to his brain. But there was no time to think about it, the room was swirling and the hotel faded away... 


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six  
  
The first thing Spike saw was the moon. It was massive and full. The light shown down on them all, like a curtain parting the dark of the night. The cemetery was quiet. You could hear rain drip from the dampened trees, and touch the ground. The ground squished under his boots as he started to make his way forward. He had taken two steps, when he stopped. He realized he didn't really know the way. He hadn't gone to Cordelia's funeral with the rest of them. It just hadn't seemed right somehow.  
  
Gunn seemed to understand Spike's hesitation, and took up the lead without a word. It wasn't a far walk, and Spike kept his eyes ahead of himself. He didn't want to look behind at Illyria and...Wes. He chastised himself for such thoughts. 'You've seen death before you moron!' he thought to himself, "Hell! I've caused it more times that I can count!" But truth was he rarely, if ever, had to bury anyone before. There was Buffy, but he hadn't gone to her funeral either. It had been during the day, and he had been too drunk to visit until several weeks after. This was the first time he had to actually bury a friend before. He was so deep in his thoughts he almost ran right into Gunn.  
  
Gunn remembered every step and stone on the way to Cordelia's resting place. Now he was there, the full meaning of everything they had seen, and done was starting to sink in. He hadn't wanted to believe, but now he had no choice. He felt Spike come to a sudden stop, and mutter a curse under his breath. It didn't matter. He was looking at the words. Words on a stone.  
  
_Here lies Cordelia Chase  
She was our eyes, our ears,   
Our heart.   
May she rest in peace._  
  
Gunn had been too shocked to cry when they found out she had gone, but now the tears started to flow and simply wouldn't stop. Spike laid a hand on his friend's arm, but Gunn was too far gone. He sank to his knees in the mud, and simply cried until he could cry no more.  
  
Illyria had joined them, and carefully laid her burden down next to the stone. She seems a bit unsure about the sobbing Gunn, but seemed to at least have an understanding look in her eyes. She settled on tending to the blankets surrounding Wesley; making sure they were all tucked in and snug. She seemed loathe to take one finger off of him for even more than an instant.  
  
Something next to Cordelia's stone caught Spikes eye. It was a smaller, newer stone, but what had gotten his attention was the name:_ Francis Allan Doyle, Gone But Never Forgotten._ Angel must have had it placed there, Spike realized. 'The ranks are growing here. Fallen heros one and all,' he thought to himself.  
  
Gunn managed, after a while, to pull himself together.  
  
"We better get started," he stated sadly, wiping the tears from his eyes.  
  
Illyria nodded. Then frowned. "We have forgotten a tool for digging the earth."  
  
"Oh bollocks!" Spike groaned. They had been so gung ho to get here, they forgot they would have to dig in the ground to actually bury the guy!  
  
Layla, who had left them alone since they arrived on the hillside, silently touched Spike's shoulder. Spike jumped and looked at her rather aggravatedly.  
  
"If you place your friend where you would like him to rest. I can ...well...merge him with the earth."  
  
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Got anymore tricks we should know about then?"  
  
She made a small smile. "A few." Then she looked at Illyria, who nodded in agreement.  
  
Illyria gently slid Wesley's body until he was above where Cordelia lay. She laid a hand on his chest and spoke a few words so quietly, that Spike had to strained his already heightened hearing to make out that she was even speaking. Then reluctantly, she let go, and stood. Gunn said nothing. 'Poor man's in shock,' Spike thought. He turned, and nodded at Layla.  
  
Layla closed her eyes, and pictured the earth moving and stretching around the awaiting body. The group watched in silence as the earth seemed to sink and swirl like water, and slowly all that remained on this realm of Wesley Wyndam-Price disappeared under the surface of the earth. When it was over, the ground was smooth and the grass was green, and the grave looked as though nothing had disturbed it that evening.  
  
Spike opened the box Layla had given him, and gently shook out the ashes over the top of the grass. The wind caught some of it, and Illyria watched in wonder as it rose like smoke into the heavens above.  
  
The company stood there for sometime later. No one wanted to be the first to move or to speak. It was when the first rays of the sun started to peak over the horizon in glorious purples and yellows that Layla whispered, "We should go." Illyria looked at her accusingly, but seeing the horizon agreed with a nod. Gunn just silently took Illyria's hand, and Spike took Gunn's. As Layla's hand slipped into his own, Spike looked into the heavens and whispered, "Rest in Peace...to all of you."  
  
As the sun rose that morning all that remained of the previous night was a medium sized wooden box on top of a lush green grave.


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven  
  
Spike rolled over on the bed, and tried to relax enough to get some sleep. After the twenty-third toss, he gave up, and started searching the room for something to drink. He wondered if the others were sleeping. Gunn had looked like a deflated balloon, and on their return to the hotel, had slunk off up the stairs to bed. Illyria had simply walked off in the opposite direction up the other staircase and disappeared. Spike doubted she was sleeping. 'Does Blue even need sleep?' He thought to himself. And as for their new friend...'Where was angel-eyes anyway?'  
  
Failing at finding anything in his room, Spike decided to explore the rest of the hotel. He followed seemingly endless halls, and past countless rooms. There was no liquor of any kind to be seen. Just more empty rooms and cupboards, filled with forgotten junk and a lot of cobwebs. After a couple of hours, he managed to find his way back to the staircase. "How does anyone bloody well find his way around this place!" he muttered under his breath, as he stomped down the stairs, feeling very annoyed.  
  
"Where is the bloody kitchen?!"  
  
"I think it's that way," Layla answered from above.  
  
Spike spun around, and looked up. Layla was sitting on the railing up above, looking down at him in amusement.  
  
"Ok, angel toes, new rules. One, stop popping out of nowhere! If I had a heart, it would have been under attack by now. Two, get down from there before you hurt yourself."  
  
Layla looked at him amused. "I like it up here. Besides weren't you looking for the kitchen?"  
  
"Fine. Whatever,"Spike waved his hand in dismissal, and headed off toward the kitchen; leaving Layla to her lofty perch. She watched him walk out of sight, and jumped down to the lobby floor. 'He was an interesting one,' she thought to herself. "Angel toes?" she whispered bewilderedly as she walked outside into the garden. Well it had been a garden once. This had been home once to some of them. Now it was just an empty building full of echoes. She wondered how long it would take for them to see it.

* * *

Night had fallen by the time Gunn awoke from his dreamless sleep. For a moment he lay there disoriented. He was in his room...in the Hyperion. Memories of the previous night washed fresh over him again like salt in a raw wound. He got up slowly and dressed. Looking down at his side he noticed his wound was almost completely healed. 'But it will probably scar,' he thought to himself. His belly rumbled, reminding him he hadn't eaten for two days. 'Best scare up some grub,' he thought to himself, and headed downstairs.  
  
Spike's search for any form of alcohol had been a complete bust, and as a result was in a very bad mood.. However, he seemed to perk up a bit when he saw Gunn descend down the stairs. "Great! You're up then! Let's say we get out of here. This place feels like a tomb."  
  
Gunn winced a bit at the mention of the word tomb. "Where's Illyria?" he asked, attempting to change the topic.  
  
"Dunno. Haven't seen her today. Probably off communing with the shrubbery somewhere," he said shrugging. "And as for our resident celestial being, she's well...up a tree."  
  
"What?!" Gunn asked not quite sure he got that.  
  
"She outside...in the garden...up a tree." Spike said slowly, and shaking his head in bewilderment. "She went out there this afternoon. Climbed on up, and hasn't come down yet."  
  
"Right," Gunn sighed. His stomach growled again.  
  
"You are in need of sustenance," spoke a familiar voice.  
  
Illyria came up from the basement stairs. "I have been pondering our fate and testing the security of our siege while you have been resting."  
  
"And?" Spike said sarcastically.  
  
"We must mobilize our forces. We must find a new, more easily guarded one."  
  
"Can we first start with breakfast?" Gunn asked resignedly.  
  
Illyria nodded, and headed toward the door.  
  
"Hang on a tic!" Spike exclaimed. "You can't go out like that."  
  
Illyria frowned, looked down at herself, and back at Spike. "What is wrong with my appearance?"  
  
"Well, you don't exactly blend now do you?" Spike reasoned.  
  
Gunn covered his mouth with his hand, desperately trying to shield a smile.  
  
Illyria looked at him and morphed into Fred. "Is this more appropriate?"  
  
"Ok, now that is just creepy," Spike stated.  
  
Gunn stopped smiling, and Spike frowned. "No pet, that will not do at all. Too Fredish. Can you do something perhaps in-between?"  
  
Illyria thought for a moment, and shook out her hair. The blue faded slowly back in, but not as extreme as it usually was. When she looked up her eyes were blue, but a softer, more human blue. There was also a faint blue shadow on her lips, and her clothes stayed instead of her armor. She looked less like Fred, and her clothes were a bit more practical than what Fred had been wearing of late. She raised an eyebrow at Spike.  
  
He clapped his hands together in relief, and looked at Gunn, who nodded approvingly. Turning to Illyria, "Much better Blue. Now where is our other makeover in need?"  
  
"What is wrong with my clothes?" came a voice from behind him.  
  
"Well no offense, but you look like you just walked out of a Greek tragedy."  
  
Layla looked down at her dress. She had to admit it did look rather out of place. "Well, what do you suggest?" she asked looking at Spike.  
  
"Something a bit more practical. And less like a period piece."  
  
Layla thought for a moment and ripped her dress off....  
  
"Hey!" and "Oh lord!" came from Spike and Gunn who both tried to look away.  
  
Revealing an identical outfit to Spike's on underneath; black t-shirt, black jeans, and a pair of black boots.  
  
"Is this better?"  
  
Spike looked around at her, and groaned. Gunn roared out laughing. She looked better in Spike's staple outfit than he did, he thought to himself.  
  
"No Layla. Something more feminine. Something more like, God I never thought I would ever say this, something more like Illyria up there."  
  
Layla looked at Illyria's causal khakis and blouse, and nodded. She ripped off her shirt, revealing a more dressy t-shirt. "I like the pants," she insisted.  
  
"Fine! Keep the pants!" Spike groaned in defeat.  
  
"Ok guys, can we go now? I did not survive the apocalypse to die of hunger the next day." Gunn asked.  
  
Illyria nodded, and walked out the door. Gunn followed her, while Spike waited till Layla had walked out before he followed.  
  
The door closed gently behind him without a sound.


	8. Epilogue

Epilogue  
  
The occasional person stared over at the table in the back of a Denny's marveling at the assortment of characters. A punkish looking man with bleach blond hair and black leather jacket smoking in the back of the booth was sitting next to a young black man who looked a little worse for wear with a large cut, now well into healing, over his right eye; a small woman with blue-streaked hair and a commanding presence sat next to a pretty young woman who was examining the fork like it was a foreign object.  
  
Layla put down the fork, when she saw the middle aged man and his wife staring at her, and looked over at Spike. Catching his amused expression, she blushed.  
  
Illyria looked at Gunn, then Spike. "What is our plan?" She asked. "It would be a fool's errand to attack again."  
  
"Relax pet. We are not attacking anyone." He looked over at Layla, and raised an eyebrow. "Right?"  
  
Layla nodded. "The battle is over for now. But if you are asking me if there is a set agenda, the answer is no. At least, I haven't been told anything yet."  
  
Spike nodded, and looked at Gunn. "So Charlie Boy, what do you think?"  
  
Gunn put down his fork, and sighed. "I think...I think I want to get out of town. I need to get out of town." He looked out the window, through the fog of Spike's cigarette. "There is too much here. Too many bad memories." His voice lowered as he spoke.  
  
"Fine." Spike stamped out his cigarette. "I have no reason to stay. That's two votes we leave town. Blue?"  
  
Illyria nodded. "I too have reason no longer to remain in this place. Let us depart immediately."  
  
Gunn attention snapped back from the window, as the others started getting up. "Hey! Can I finish eating first?" 


End file.
